


Inside Job

by bunsterjonez



Series: Subterfuge [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Bucky Barnes-centric, But first, Canon Divergence - Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), F/M, Fluff, It's coming, Marvel Universe, Post-Civil War (Marvel), and sexy times
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-18
Updated: 2019-06-18
Packaged: 2020-05-14 06:18:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19267525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bunsterjonez/pseuds/bunsterjonez
Summary: A Subterfuge Story - Recovery and second chances abound after a year of exile in Wakanda. But a looming threat follows you home, threatening everything you've built... and who you built it all for.





	Inside Job

It wasn’t supposed to be this way.

“Miss?” One of the heavily armed security guards leaned forward to direct you out of the elevator doors. “This way.”

This wasn’t supposed to happen.

The two human tanks flanked you down the 2nd floor lobby. Your hand gripped the minuscule drive, nails almost drawing blood from your palms as you headed towards the unavoidable. From your periphery, you spied a few suits huddled together around Steve, who stopped mid-sentence, his curious eyes following your escorted procession.

It didn’t feel real. But it was.

Signature tailored suit and tinted glasses on, Tony Stark stood still, framed against the bright lights flooding through the glass windows behind him. Your mentor, your friend. He’d saved you from the brink once before. But now, the look he wore was one he reserved for his worst enemy.

“Did you seriously think you’d get away with this?” His voice was eerily quiet, and you frowned slightly at the accusation. But before you could even open your mouth in defense, his next words were much louder than you anticipated.

“I took a risk, stuck my neck out – ALL of our necks – and put them on the line for  _you_. This is how you repay us?!” Tony’s voice echoed throughout the mid-level lobby, his face reddening.

“I can explain–”

“Don’t even bother packing. Out.  _Now_.”

“Tony, please–”

“That’s Mr. Stark to you,” he glared before turning away. “You better be gone in thirty minutes, or F.R.I.D.A.Y. will literally eject you from the premises.”

A crowd had gathered in the lobby by now. People milling about, witnessing this very public outburst, were muttering behind file folders and shooting disapproving looks your way before going about their business.

You squared your shoulders as you saw him disappear around a corner. Your eyes met Steve’s jarring scowl briefly, before he dashed after Tony.

_Back straight. Don’t let them see you sweat._

This short-lived arrangement had gone on long enough. Hadn’t you said so from the very beginning? You’d gone along with their Avengers charade, their necessity to feel like family. To be honest, you were surprised you had lasted this long.

Yet the thought that it was all over, that with a snap of Tony’s fingers, everything you’d built up in the last year would be lost–

_It’s fine_. A deep breath and you turned to head down towards the main entrance, when a pair of steely blue eyes from the third floor landing made your heart stop and your eyes burn.

He was the reason you’d stuck it out this long; delayed the inevitable. Home was wherever he was. And right now ‘Home’ was looking at you as though you were a complete stranger. A mixture of confusion, and suspicion, and bitterness. Practically screaming at you to face up to what you’d done and not run away again.

What you wouldn’t give to run to him, tell him everything. If anybody deserved an explanation it was him.

_It’s better this way._

Before your tears could betray you, you tore your gaze away from your saving grace.

Now you’d lost him, too.

***

**_ Five Days Earlier _ **

“Augmented Imaging Decompression is a vital tool for treating individuals that require long-term mental health care, such as those suffering from trauma and deep-seated psychological distress…”

Tony caught your eye, shooting you an encouraging wink as you continued with your presentation. The conference theater was packed with representatives from various global health departments and non-profit organizations, and you had to pause and marvel at the fact that this was really happening. Your success with A.I.D. and your work in Wakanda with Shuri was conditional for the purposes of your pending pardon with the U.S. Government. Who better to witness your exoneration than those advocating for better mental health? It was a recommendation that you couldn’t afford to lose.

“We will be able to provide fully functional A.I.D. prototypes to select medical institutions worldwide within three months.” With a wave of your hand you shut down the wall projections, and tapped a few keys on the tablet in your hands. “I’ve just sent each of you a copy of our short-term and long-term goals, case studies, and a full financial breakdown, highlighting how we intend to mitigate costs with a provisional contract to maintain production in-house.”

You saw a few concerned looks and awkward paper-shufflings around the room. Not an unexpected reaction altogether.

“I’m sorry,” a young representative seemed to gather enough of his composure to speak up. “Are we expected to let Stark Enterprises keep us in the dark about mass production?” His voice grew louder, more incredulous, incredulous as he spoke. “If this is truly is as revolutionarily effective as you’re claiming, why not let outside contractors in on the process? Surely a greater output will– ”

“Would you rather have a product that works effectively, or a hundred that aren’t up to standard?” you asked steadily, addressing the entire room. “We’re talking about the mental well-being of thousands, millions, even. We want to do this the right way. Not the easy way.”

“And you are positive that this is the ‘right way’?” Another voice spoke up. “The names of your case studies have been redacted in your report. Is there any honest reason for that?”

“Our preliminary subjects are entitled to their privacy, which is to be extended to all patients treated with the A.I.D. Protocol,” you said, quieting down the room. “I cannot – and will not – betray their confidence, nor hinder their recovery in any way. But there is one fully rehabilitated subject I could introduce you to, if only to satisfy your curiosity.”

“Who?”

A smile slowly grew on your face. “Me.”

**_***_ **

“Nice work.” Tony’s voice made you look round, your darkened office illuminated only by BABS’ backup processes. “You made quite an impression on those suits. Still on the fence about the new name, though.”

“Only you could get away with calling it B.A.R.F. for this long,” you said jokingly, turning back to the backups. “You think they’ll go for it?”

“Maybe not all of them,” he shrugged. “But at least the ones that matter most.” Tony tossed a file on your desk, and you opened it slowly.

“Tony… this is–”

“Looks like Uncle Sam decided you’d done enough community service,” his own smile was growing broadly at your flabbergasted expression.

You hardly dared to believe it, much less form the words. “I’m–”

“Free. As a bird.” Looking back up in awe you saw Tony positively beaming at you. “Congratulations.”

**_***_ **

The successive events of the next day seemed to happen in a very short amount of time. A stroke of a pen, and your work release papers were filed and sealed. The flash of a camera and a brand new ID travel card was shoved in your hand. Zipping up your bag and packing up your belongings: BABS and the proprietary blueprints for the A.I.D. Program. Before you knew it, you’d been ushered through customs and found yourself strapped into the familiar Quinjet seat, your leg bouncing up and down with anxious excitement as you counted down the seconds to your final descent.

It had been a long year. Being confined to Wakanda while Tony continued to negotiate your freedom (aided behind the scenes by Nick Fury) had taken its toll on you. The old you would have reveled in your continued isolation. Save for Tony, Shuri, and T’Challa, the lack of face time with any member of your new Avengers family was giving you cabin fever.

Bucky tried to dodge missions as often as he could, always determined to make the few hours a month you managed to spend together count for so much more. But fact of the matter was, you missed him. You missed them all. And now, at long last, you’d be with them again. The thought put a dopey smile on your face for the entire trip.

Once the jet hit the ground, you all but ripped the seat belt off you, making a beeline for doors. But the lone figure waiting for you in the cargo bay sent all your thoughts flooding out of your mind.

There stood Bucky, all brilliant blue eyes and dazzling smile at the sight of you. In an instant you launched yourself into his arms, lips crashing into his, savoring every inch, every breath, every sigh. His arms pressed you close, your fingers tangled in his hair.

“It’s shorter than I remember,” you breathed against his mouth, lips still searching out every taste of you.

“Sam said I looked like a hobo,” he mumbled back, pausing only briefly to look at you breathlessly, as though he couldn’t believe you were real. “You like it?”

Chuckling at the unbelievable hint of self-consciousness, you found his lips again. “I like it.”

**_***_ **

The energy inside the Compound was vibrant, electric, the likes of which you thought even Tony had ever experienced. Toasts were given all around, claps on the back, and warm hugs giving you a sense of belonging you couldn’t ever claim before. It was good to be home.

But it wasn’t long before Bucky’s meaningful glance from across the room had you claiming exhaustion, waving away any more rounds from the Team. For the two of you, the night had just begun.

You walked silently, hand in hand, down the corridors, an inexplicable shyness creeping up your spine. It felt like a fresh start, somehow, and the terrifying thought that things had changed too much in the past year for this all to feel normal.  

You needn’t had worried. All inhibitions were left outside the door to Bucky’s room, as he swept you up with pure abandon, just like that first night in Romania. There was only the need to feel him, every part of him burning up your senses, your skin beneath his skin, a simultaneous dance and battle, attempting to figure out whose lust for the other would give out first.

Dawn was rising, bringing about the start of your new life, and a striking thought as your eyes woke: Maybe “new” wasn’t so bad after all.


End file.
